(Untitled)

[faithful_slayer]

Faith is sitting in a booth at a diner near the Conrad, frowning at a tabloid article; she's never quite gotten out of the habit of checking them for possible demon sightings, and it looks like she may have found one. Whether it's from her world or not remains to be seen, but it might be time for her to do a little research

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[wegotwork]

Sam walks into the diner.

Or storms, really, stalking across the way until he finds a booth in which to sit.

He's angry, fuming, and his hands shake as he reaches for his menu.

[faithful_slayer]

Faith looks up from her research, eyebrows raised. Cute guy, obviously pissed about something, but hey, doesn't everyone have days like that?

Still, better for him to take it out on her than on the waitress, so she gets up and walks over to him, with the least threatening smile she can muster.

"You look like you're having the worst day ever. Need a friendly ear?"

[wegotwork]

Little do they know that, in her way, she's sort of responsible for his foul mood at the moment.

He looks up at her, trying not to glare too much.

"You actually want to listen?" he asks, skepticism lacing his voice.

[faithful_slayer]

She'll be very apologetic when and if she finds that out.

"Sure."

She sits down, glad that the only incriminating thing she has right now is a dumb-looking tabloid.

"I'm Faith, by the way."

[wegotwork]

His expression softens a little further, and he nods once, politely, setting the menu down on the table.

"Sam."

[faithful_slayer]

"Nice to meet you, Sam."

Faith offers her hand for shaking.

"You can tell me anything...I'm almost guaranteed to believe you."

That is so, so true.

[wegotwork]

"Not so sure I would believe it myself," Sam mutters.

Instead, he decides to investigate in a strong cup of coffee.

"Just had a rough night."

[faithful_slayer]

"Yeah? Rough like 'the plumbing exploded,' or rough like....'somebody's going to emergency, somebody's going to jail'?"

[wegotwork]

"Didn't get that extreme," Sam tells her, chuckling quietly.

He reaches up to absently massage his temple, accepting the coffee when it comes.

[faithful_slayer]

"That's good, 'cause I've had more than my fair share of that kinda night, and lemme tell you, it bites."

Faith gestures to the waitress to bring her things over, shoving the tabloid and its cover art - which really does look like something she should kill - to the side.

"Would you rather not talk about it?"

[wegotwork]

Sam's eyes briefly move to the tabloid, but he doesn't think much of it, perusing the menu and wondering if he should actually consider something food-like.

"Not exactly looking to rehash past drunken activities."

[faithful_slayer]

"Ahhhh." Faith nods, looking enlightened. "Another species of trouble with which I am entirely too familiar. Coyote Ugly syndrome."

[wegotwork]

"Coyote Ugly syndrome?"

Sam tilts his head curiously.

"What's that, exactly?"

[faithful_slayer]

"It was a movie...uhm. Get drunk, pick up the wrong person, and when you wake up they're so ugly you'd be willing to chew a limb off to get away. Coyote Ugly."

Faith watches too much TV, perhaps.

[wegotwork]

"Oh."

That definitely sounds like a page out of Dean's life, which is why the phrase is totally unfamiliar to Sam.

"Guess I can't really relate."

[faithful_slayer]

"Ah. Not that kind of drunken mistake. Oh well. It's still useful information to have," Faith says, optimistically. "Who knows, you might be on Jeopardy one day."

She falls silent, sipping her coffee.

"Whatever happened...I hope it works out okay for you. Really."